Humiliation Round
by Steel Komodo
Summary: S.I.N adds a new rule to spice things up. Bison watches with interest. Rated T for slapstick humour and mild, infrequent swearing. Hints of Adon/Juri and Chun-Li/Cody


**I actually had this idea rattling around in my head for quite some time, but never got around to doing it owing to college work. Now, what with some free time on weekends, you can enjoy it in all of its manic glory!**

**Rated T for mild, infrequent language and slapstick comedy. I don't own Street Fighter, but I wish I did. :P**

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With the announcement of the new World Warriors tournament, fighters were flocking from all over the world to claim the title of Champion. Karate masters from far-flung Japan, professional wrestlers from America, even a British boxer – all were fair game in the greatest game of Survival of the Fittest, each as liable as the other to come crashing from glory at one misplaced step or poorly-timed punch. But this wasn't enough for S.I.N, the mysterious sponsor of the new tournament – even the finest warriors couldn't shake much life into a sport that had turned stale and hackneyed over the years. And so, the shadowy heads of department turned to the administrators of the tournament for inspiration.

It took a lot of heated discussion and (rumour had it) bribery, but in the end the pressure from the high-ranking businessmen and the unseen CEO was too much. And so the Humiliation Round was born – whenever a fighter defeated his opponent, they had a five-minute time limit in which to humiliate their fallen foe. No holds barred, no hesitations, no limits. Some had argued against that particular ruling, but who could say what became of those who crossed S.I.N, or what they had at their disposal?

It had seemed an innocent rule, at first. After all, it was just a little harmless fun, right?

* * *

_In the shadowy office, M. Bison reclined in the chair in front of the big screen, linked to over a hundred hidden cameras throughout the world's stadiums, and grinned. This was going to be good, he told himself. Seth had outdone himself this time._

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* * *

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As the yell of "TIME OVER!" rang in his ears, Abel slowly pulled himself to his feet, dreading what was to come. Already the victorious El Fuerte had ceased his jubilant acrobatics about the cruise ship's arena and was now walking slowly and resolutely towards him, an expression of determination written on his face. Both knew of the new rule that S.I.N had enforced, and as honourable fighters both were going to see it played out, one way or another. The crowd had turned silent with expectation.

"Well," drawled the disappointed Frenchman, "you've won." He spread his arms in a gesture of surrender, wincing as the pain of the patented Flying Giga Buster sang through his muscles. "Do what you will." As he said these words, a mischievous gleam came into El Fuerte's eyes, and Abel began to wonder what exactly the sly little wrestler had in mind.

"Tell me, _amigo_," mused the Mexican. "What colour boxers do you wear?"

Abel paled. "What?"

Without warning, El Fuerte darted forward, all the unpredictable speed of his fighting style being brought to bear. Abel panicked and lurched forward, trying to grab him and delay the inevitable embarrassment, but the speedy wrestler ducked under the clutching hands, reached out and _yanked._ The Frenchman yelped in shock as his pants suddenly shot downwards, and his face went as red as the brightly-coloured Pikachu boxers that were now revealed to the crowd. The assembled masses burst into uproarious laughter, and Abel's ears burned as he struggled to pull his leggings back up. El Fuerte was laughing like a maniac, hopping back and forth on his feet in triumph.

"Old playground trick, _amigo_!" he shouted. "I used to do that to the popular kids in front of their girlfriends!" Abel would have wondered what sort of a school life his opponent had, but the humiliation was too much to bear. How could he have fallen for such a childish prank? Forgetting his dignity for the sake of revenge, he swung around, glaring at El Fuerte, who then made a great show of looking suddenly very nervous.

"Come here!" Abel roared, and lunged again, with every intention of pounding the smaller fighter into the shining floor. But the nimble Mexican slid aside, as he had done throughout the entire match, and as he did so Abel's legs suddenly got tangled in his own pants. With a yell, the mercenary twisted, grabbing at thin air, toppled and hit the floor, and the smaller fighter lost no time in jumping on him and grabbing him by the wrists. The Frenchman's eyes widened as the reality of what was about to happen dawned upon him.

"Stop hitting yourself! Stop hitting yourself! Stop hitting yourself!"

* * *

_Bison scowled at the images on his screen. Cheap school tricks? He certainly expected a lot more from the greatest fighters in the world!_

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"I ASKED FOR A HUNDRED PUSH-UPS AND I'M GOING TO _GET_ A HUNDRED PUSH-UPS! _COME ON!_ ONE-TWO-ONE-TWO-ONE-TWO-"

Rufus wished the pain would end. Going into the tournament to impress his honeypants Candy seemed liked a good idea at the time – he'd been learning a lot of new tricks from the masters in China, and all those hours of kung-fu movies late at night had given him plenty of inspiration for new moves. With the huge repertoire (Didn't know he could pronounce that, did ya?) of high-kicking power in his belt, there was no way he'd lose to any of the preliminary chumps! At least, that was what he had been thinking as he'd stepped back into the ring for the first time in months!

So how the heck did he end up losing to a flat-top soldier man with only two moves and a bad haircut? The twerp should have gone down under the barrage of fancy new tricks Rufus had perfected – the Tiger Swing, the Cosmic Reversal, not to mention the Ultimate Milky Way Combination! But no, he'd hung back like a coward and took advantage of whatever invisible gaps Rufus had left in his defence, then suddenly knocked him flat with some fancy new knee attack a friend had taught him! It was just plain embarrassing!

But not as embarrassing as what Drill Sergeant Nasty was forcing him to go through right now, he conceded. Sweat was pouring off of his brow in oceans, and his arms were shaking from the effort of keeping his huge bulk supported. What would Candy say if she saw him now? Then again, he reckoned he'd be fine, as long as the man didn't make him flop like a seal-

"ALRIGHT," screamed Guile, "NOW I WANT TO SEE YOU FLOP FROM ONE END OF THIS ARENA TO THE OTHER! COME ON! FLOP LIKE A SEAL! YOU'RE A SEAL! A GODDAMNED WALRUS! ARF ARF! CAN YOU _BARK_ LIKE A SEAL?"

"Arf arf," said Rufus, wishing the pain would end.

* * *

_Balrog soon learned the punishment for spilling hot coffee on his Lord and Master's new boots, which was to be thrown through a two-tonne, six-inch thick steel door by an angry Bison._

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"This little piggy went to market... This little piggy stayed at home..."

"Ah-ha-ha-ha! S-stop it! You're k-k-killin' me!"

But Chun-Li had no intention of stopping now. Thrashing Cody in under five minutes was just another highlight in a very good week – all starting with Ryu asking her out to dinner, of course. And now, thanks to the new Humiliation rule, she had another reason to be happy – Cody had practically begged her not to send him back to Metro City Jail after his humiliating defeat, and was prepared to accept almost any blackmail or condition she could impose. It hadn't taken long to pull of his trainers and socks, despite the young convict's protests ("Those are my best shoes, woman!"), and he was probably wishing he'd worded his pleading a little differently, as she was now sitting astride him, running through "This Little Piggy" for the second time on the right foot. The enthusiastic laughter and cheering from the crowd also helped her mood somewhat.

She was just reaching the last toe, and was being very careful to just _lightly_ brush her fingers across the sole of the blonde's foot, sending him into even more convulsions. Who knew that the former hero-turned-convict would be so ticklish? Then again, who knew Ryu had the courage to ask her out? Granted, their little trip would probably be funded by none other than Ken, seeing as his friend hadn't a penny in the world, but still...

"Y-y-you had your f-fun yet-t?" stammered Cody from underneath, all out of breath.

"Not yet," giggled Chun-Li. A malicious smirk crossed her face as she delicately gripped his little toe between thumb and forefinger, her tickle torture almost at its climax. Guessing what was about to happen, the crowd began a regular chant of "DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!" and that was all the encouragement the detective needed.

She put on her sweetest, most honey-ish voice. "And _this_ little piggy went..."

Cody blanched in terror. "Oh, no. No, _no_, _NOOOO-_"

In the crowd, Guy sighed and shook his head. "Cody... when will you learn?" he mused, his voice lost to the roar of the assembled masses.

* * *

_At a glare from Bison, Vega promptly shoved his hands behind his back and sidled away from the "Record" button on the monitor._

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And that was then things began to get a whole lot weirder, at least by S.I.N standards. Of course, the rules concerning the Humiliation Round said that public sex and ritual killing of any kind were out of the question, and even at least outright torture was a guaranteed ban. But the organization could never have been prepared for what came next.

* * *

Another beer bottle flew from someone's hand and sailed over the crowd into the arena, missing it's intended target by a hair's breadth and smashing into the floor in an explosion of broken glass and liquor. Ignoring the mess left by this new projectile, Cammy looked up with hatred at the pink-clad man above her, who was finally finishing his horrible, off-key take of "_You Gotta Friend in Me_" with a terribly-misplaced soprano booming. So overjoyed was Dan Hibiki at having won his first match ever that he insisted on pinning the Delta Red beneath his feet whilst he sang songs of triumph that "reflected the might of the _Saikyo-ryuu," _as he put it. All it was really reflecting, the Brit decided with an angry grunt, was his dire need for a new set of vocal chords. How he'd managed to catch her off-guard with his clumsy, amateur imitation of Ryu's _Anstatsuken_ was beyond her.

Finishing his song, Dan turned and waved to the crowd, beaming like the moron he was. He seemed utterly oblivious to the boos and jeers thrown his way, as well as the occasional rotten tomato that splatted him, and actually appeared to be revelling in the distaste the crowd was showing. That, or his egotistical mind was intepreting the loud mess of noise as cheers instead of mocking yells - you never quite new what was going on up there, assuming he had a brain to speak of. Sometimes the self-taught warrior just baffled everyone around him.

"You done?" Cammy snapped from under his feet. Registering the angry Brit beneath him, Dan looked down and grinned horribly. Then he suddenly changed tune - his face took on a gentlemanly politeness that was almost _too_ perfect, and he bowed respectfully in polar opposite to his usual self-confident poses. His sudden new attitude made Cammy suspicious almost immediately.

"Of course, madam," crooned Dan. "Pardon me." Then he casually stepped off of his captive and folded his arms, as if waiting. With a huge sigh of relief, the scantily-clad agent began to push herself up-

"NOT!" howled Dan, and leapt. Before Cammy realised what was happening, she was back on the floor, the crowd were booing once again and Dan was launching into "_O Sole Mio_" in a glass-breaking tenor, ignorant of the fresh new rain of loose objects heading towards him.

* * *

"This is utterly ridiculous," growled Adon.

"Aw, come on, kitten," purred Juri. "Lighten up."

The self-proclaimed "New King of Muay Thai" was in no position to lighten up, however. His fighting record had been going so well - the pompus boxer Dudley, that stuck-up Makoto, even the "mighty" Balrog had fallen to his new and improved Muay Thai style. And all of them were famous in their own right, now reduced to licking their wounds in shame as he, Adon the Great, mocked them relentlessly and exposed their pathetic falsehoods before the crowds. And now, he'd been reduced to a twitching wreck by some newcomer who'd kicked out wildly with neither control nor style and yet had still managed to break several ribs! And _then_, thanks that idiotic new rule imposed by S.I.N, he was being forced to pull off a humilating Spanish Flamenco routine, the crowd clapping to the beat! It was _absolutely degrading_!

"And to think," he added as he pranced awkwardly about the arena, accompanied by the much more relaxed form of Juri, "that I have to do this in front of millions of people across the globe! This is a disgrace to Muay Thai! Sagat will _not_ let me forget this in a hurry!"

The Korean smiled widely, showing all of her teeth. "Cheer up, Adon," she chuckled as she broke away for a moment to perform a small routine by herself. "We all know you _like_ Flamenco, so why hide it?"

"But that's not the worst part!" wailed Adon, just as Juri hopped back towards him, caught him up in his arms and bent him over backwards in a dramatic dip. Too embarrased to break free, the former champion looked up at the smiling girl, and all of his woes came back to him.

"The thing is, why do _you_ have to lead?" he hissed.

"Because I won," was the curt reply. "Now shut up and do the twirl already."

* * *

"_Oh, what walks downstairs,  
__Alone or in pairs,  
And makes the happeist sound...?"_

Dhalsim sighed in exasperation. He was facing perhaps the most ridiculous moment in all of his life, for which none of his long days of meditating under the old tree back home could have prepared him. The gods must be angry with him for some inperfection, he decided, as the laughing Zangief slung him back and forth in his hands exactly like a toy spring. His rubbery body was already feeling the strain of the repeated motions, and he was rapidly starting to feel dizzy. But he knew that the wrestler wasn't finished with him yet, and calmy waited to see what would happen next.

It didn't take long. Zangief promptly tucked him under one arm and dashed over to the large flight of stairs that had stood at one end of the arena - the same stairs that he'd used to make his flashy, gaudy entrance. He scrambled up them to the roar of the crowd, taking them three at a time, and turned about when reached the top. Very carefully, he set the wobbling Dhalsim on his head, with his feet in the air, at the very top step. Then he pushed. The yogi, as expected, began to flop down the stairs one at a time, turning end-over-end as he went, and the huge Russian, booming with laughter, followed him down, bouncing about like an excited child.

The crowd began to count. "ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!"

Dhalsim groaned. His only hope was to reach the foot of the stairs before Zangief did.

* * *

Akuma snorted as he looked down upon the limp, half-concious form of Ibuki. "Pathetic," he snarled. "Not even worth the effort."

The crowd were silent. Never before had they seen the kind of ferocity with which Akuma had pummelled the young ninja, nor had they heard so many bones breaking in one punch. They were all, secretly, frightened at the power this one man could unleash, but at the same time they knew that the Humiliation Round was come, and they all craned forward to see what would happen. Akuma was not known for obeying the rule of the tournament - in the previous one, he had outright killed M. Bison the instant the gong sounded for his fight with Ryu to begin. There was a long pause, punctuated by a breeze that ruffled Akuma's blood-red hair and dusty clothes.

When he next spoke, addressing the sprawled form of Ibuki, there was a horrible edge to his voice. "Now, I know that the rules forbid me to kill you," he grated. "And that, for you, is a shame." He bent down and picked up the unfortunate girl by her throat, holding her up for all the crowd to see. Ibuki squirmed feebly in his grasp, emitting several choked gasps. She barely noticed that the breeze was beginning to pick up, nor the sudden new tinge of blue to Akuma's skin.

"I can tell right now," her tormentor continued, his voice turning more and more fearsome by the moment, "that death is the one thing you wish for. I cannot grant that wish." She did not reply, but merely raised one hand, clutching at his wrist in a vain attempt to pry it off.

It was Akuma's hand that moved to intercept hers, but the thick, calloused paw that crushed all the bones of her fingers a second later was not.

She screamed. The crowd screamed too.

"THIS IS AS CLOSE TO DEATH AS YOU WILL COME!" howled Oni. With a manic laugh, he raised the hand to Ibuki's forehead, and the girl wailed as the full extent of the _Satsui no Hado_ was poured into her mind...

* * *

And almost immediately after that last one, S.I.N immediately called for the Humiliation Round to be withdrawn. The World Warrior Authorities were only too glad to comply; needing neither bribe nor threat, and soon, despite public moaning and two petitions, the latest addition to the tournament rules also became the most short-lived. There were collective sighs of relief and howls of despair all around the globe, but S.I.N was glad to know that it had managed to delete one embarrassing moment from its history.

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_Slumped into his chair, Bison gazed wistfully at the screen. "Now what am I going to watch on Sunday evenings?" he moaned._

"_Top Gear?" suggested Balrog._

_Bison glared at him, then sighed in exasperation. "Fine," he growled as he dialled the channel number for BBC2. The only consolation he had in his boredom was the black plastic square lodged under his arm, with the words "S.I.N Blackmail Tape" scrawled on in permanent marker._

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**What do you think, folks?**


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